Hide Me
by battlenotwithmonsters
Summary: The Daroga, a man of honor, principles and duty, is faced with a mad woman and a difficult choice.


"Hide me."

He did not, at first, understand. The Daroga stood at his door and stared and the girl dressed in white before him.

Her eyes grew agitated and she glanced nervously at the street behind her.

"Monsieur, I beg of you, let me in!"

He nodded, uncomprehending, but he was the Daroga of Mazanderan, and he must always seem to have control of the situation. He let her in and shut the door.

Her nightgown dragged along the carpet, sodden and dirty at the hem. She made some noise. A cough, a sob, a laugh, and turning made that plea which she had greeted him with.

"Hide me."

He gestured to a chair, numb and dull. He had been sleeping...having lovely dreams. Comprehension came slowly.

Mademoiselle, please be seated. You look quite distressed.

She stared at him, not seeming to understand the viscosity of his actions, the leaden tone.

She ran forward seizing the collar of his dressing gown with fierce, mad agitation.

"He is looking for me! You must hide me! He will never suspect you...because you know him! He will come for me, and you must hide me. Have you no safe place here?"

He urged her to be calm, still confused by her terrible nervous hysteria. She wanted to hide. From whom? Safe place. The closet, of course. She would hide in the closet. From whom?

Mademoiselle, if you would explain-

"Monsieur! I beg of you, my husband is looking for me. But I may escape if you hide me till I am come for. My husband will lie to you, say that I am mad! Please, you must believe me! When my husband comes, you must say that I am not here, and do not let him near! But then _he_ will come to take me away to a safer place...please, you must hide me till he comes!

Too confusing for so late. His habit did not usually allow him to be awoken, but the frantic pounding on the door...

His thoughts sharpened slightly. A lady in distress. Someone would come to take her to a safer place, the other to take her to God knew where against her wishes. He must be rational, but before he could ask of whom to beware, a knock on the door.

"Hide me!" a panicked whisper, and in haste he opened the closet door and shut her inside. All was quiet. The knock sounded again. He opened the door, found Darius, and let him in. He did not tell him about the lady in the closet.

"Master, you should not be awake. The laudanum-"

Yes Darius. I know. Put the parcel there and go to sleep.

"Yes master."

The Daroga watched his servant slowly ascend the steps. He looked at the closet door where his charge was. The door cracked and she peeked out. He frowned and she shut it again, clothes rustling where they hung. He sat in his chair to wait.

Two men. He knew them both, for certain. One the enemy, the other an ally. and he must make the distinction. To turn one away, to give the other one the mad girl in the closet. He created the hero in his mind. A prince dressed in silk atop an elephant with tusks of gold. He thought again. What if he chose wrong. He was about to ask the girl, when the doorbell rang. He froze. The light in the window would tell anyone he was there. But what if he chose wrong?

Hide me.

His duty as Daroga of Mazanderan. To protect the weak and punish the wicked. Only one girl's word. and what if she really was mad? Then he might be making a horrid mistake. She had seemed fragile from the moment he saw her...fragile, impressionable, and upon the cusp of breaking. He steeled himself and went to answer the door.

A man asking about a charity bazaar. And would he contribute a few francs for the good of the needy, thank you very much sir, a merry Christmas season to you sir, may God bless you. He relaxed, his religious duty fulfilled. Yes, it was Christmas. Almost. Tomorrow, in fact. It was cold outside. She had run through the cold the day before Christmas when the sky predicted snow or sleet or something like. She was not at all right in her head, but he was duty bound to welcome her. Unrecognizable as she was, she certainly was Christine...hiding from her husband. Which one. She had two. One who was to be feared, the other to be sympathized with, by virtue of his youth and beauty. The former or the latter? In her state, he wondered whom she would call her husband, and who would be dubbed the reverent "_he"_.

His mind was clearer now. The cold revived it. Hospitality compelled him to offer his guest a place by the fire, where it was warmer, but if her urgency was to be believed, she was safer from some unnamed horror in the closet. There were coats in the closet, so she should be warm if she kept her head...he waited.

The clock struck twelve. He surmised her to be asleep. He was not tired. He was watchful. He had a choice to make.

Suddenly, the door shuddered with strong blows that strained to be heard over the building wind. Someone was there. He got up. The door shuddered again. He walked slowly, waiting for a voice to betray itself to him. No voice. He sighed. He opened the door.

"Please, is she here?"

He blinked. What?

"Is she here? I told her to come here if she was in trouble. I though you would perhaps be of help. Is she here?"

A choice. Thoughts whirled quickly, launching him out of his torpid fog.

Two husbands. One beautiful, rich, young, strong, earnest and kind. The other hideous, rich, old, strong, cunning and possessed of unknown ulterior motives. He must choose one for her.

She was very pretty. She was very young. She was weak, gentle and kind. She might be an angel but for indecisiveness. He must be her governor, her protector. The face looking at him was fevered, worried, anxious, unhappy. The face loved her, would protect her.

"My wife is ill. I wish to take her to some happier place where she can forget this atrocious ordeal. Come, is she here?"

The Daroga smiled, and nearly turned towards the closet, listening for Christine to come and embrace her lover. The girl was silent.

The girl was silent.

He turned back to her husband.

I don't know why you would presume upon me in such a fashion. It is late. As to where your wife is, I would expect in bed.

The scowl and brandished riding crop, as well as profane language came as a surprise, but the sound of Darius stirring above hushed his tongue.

"You interfere, Monsieur! I read the letter! I know her mind! I know her plan! If she is here, tell me. I could not bear it if she went-"

With someone else?

The boy was surprised. Darius came and shut the door on him.

The Daroga thanked him and sat back in his chair, waiting patiently with Christine for Erik to come.


End file.
